Laughing Boy
by MissFeral
Summary: Here's a little story that's been floating around in my head for a long time. The 23rd anniversary of this amazing movie is coming up soon, so now seems like a good time to post it. Lots of fluff here, so if you don't like that keep your comments to yourself.


I don't know what I find more strange...grown men who behave like children or children who want to be grown men. When I think about it, I guess the latter is weirder. I sometimes remember when I was a kid. At the time, it seemed like the worst experience in the world; an awful rut that felt like a goddamn prison. I guess all boys ever want is to be men. School was our prison back then, and we were under some delusion that school was the worst possible place. Then when we grow up, we change our minds. We have more privileges of course, being adults; I'm not going to lie. Men are allowed to do many things that children can't, but since I'm in prison I can't very often take advantage of those risqué little pleasures.

Anyway, it doesn't seem so wrong for men to occasionally act childish or have childlike charactistics. A little silliness, innocent playfulness...I usually scoff when I see any grown ass man behaving this way, especially one of the inmates. But it can be refreshing sometimes.

One day I discovered a little something about my friend Andy Dufresne that still makes me smile when I think about it. It happened in the library. I walked in and found Andy sitting there. He was holding an ice pack on his naked left foot.

"What happened there?" I asked him.

He took the ice pack away, showing me an ugly blackish bruise blooming on the top part of his foot.

"You gonna keep me in suspense?"

"Just an accident, Red. I dropped a book on my foot."

I pursed my lips. "Hmm, that must have been one heavy book to smash through your shoe and make a bruise like that on your tootsie."

"Okay, it was the bookshelf," Andy admitted, wincing as he touched the injury. I could sense he was slightly embarrassed by whatever happened so I decided not to ask him anymore questions.

"Maybe you should take your foot to the infirmary," I suggested, genuinely concerned for my friend.

Then Brooks strolled into the room and greeted us with a wave of his boney hand. He smiled impishly until he noticed Andy's bruised foot.

"What happened, did you hurt yourself?"

Andy nodded. "I had an accident while moving one of the shelves. Nobody to blame but myself."

Brooks pulled up a chair and seated himself next to Andy.

The old man winced. "Yikes, that's one nasty fucker of a bruise. Does it hurt?"

"Of course it hurts him, Brooks. What you think?" I said, slightly harsher than I meant to.

Brooks glanced at me, then looked back at Andy. "Hey, I know just what you need. I'll be right back, don't run away."

Brooks returned with a small pillow and set it on his lap. He then took hold of Andy's foot and pulled it into his lap, setting it gently on the pillow.

"We need to keep your foot elevated," Brooks explained, gently rubbing the top of his foot. "More cold compression and maybe even a little massage, that's good for the circulation."

"Thanks for the advice, I'll do that," Andy said.

"Oh, and I brought some elastic bandages. I'll wrap your foot in these and you'll be good as new." Then Brooks began wrapping the bandages around Andy's foot like he knew what he was doing.

"You've done this before, Brooks?" I asked.

"Sure, I'm a regular doctor."

I suddenly noticed Andy looking very tense. He was nervous. I figured he was worried because Brooks wrapped the bandage too tight and it was hurting his bruise.

"Please be careful," Andy said, softly.

Brooks chuckled. "I am being careful, Andy. I would never hurt you...and I won't harm a single one of these piggies."

He tweaked one of Andy's bare toes, causing him to inhale sharply and almost jerk his foot away.

"You okay, Andy?" I asked him.

His cheeks were turning slightly red. "Y-yes, I'm just fine."

Brooks continued wrapped the bandage around Andy's foot, very slowly...as if performing an operation. All was going well...until the old man accidentally scratched the bottom of Andy's foot.

Andy squealed like a toddler. I had never heard him make such a noise. He nearly jumped out of the fucking chair.

"Hey, watch the fingers!" Andy giggled, holding his foot defensively.

Brooks raised his gray eyebrows. "Huh?"

"Watch it, will ya?" Andy blushed, probably realizing he was busted.

"Why, Andy Dufresne...you're not ticklish, are you?"

Andy's nervous smile faded into a look of just plain nervousness.

"Well, are you?" Brooks pressed on.

"No."

"You sure?"

"Well...maybe just a little bit," Andy admitted, shyly.

Brooks grinned like a demon. "Give me that foot. I'm not finished wrapping the bandage."

"Okay...but don't tickle me."

"I will try not to," Brooks replied coolly, as he yanked Andy's trembling foot back into his lap.

Seconds later, Andy was laughing again. "Hey, you did that on purpose!"

"No, I didn't."

I found myself a book and tried to read it, but how could I concentrate with that horseplay going on next to me? I glanced over to see a red-faced Andy holding his hands against his mouth, shaking with held-back laughter. Brooks was "accidentally" tickling the underside of Andy's big toe.

"Brooks," I warned him. "Lay off him, will you?"

"Don't blame me, Red." The old man gave me his very best "innocent" look. Though he looked about as innocent as a wolf in a chicken coop.

I glared at him. "Cut it out."

"Cut _what_ out, Red? I have no idea what you're talking about..."

Brooks wiggled his fingers on the ball of Andy's foot, causing him to shriek girlishly and buck in his chair.

I rolled my eyes, covered my ears, and tried to focus on my book.

"Red, get over here and hold him down. He's squirming too much!"

I turned, and watched with a dumbfounded expression as Brooks tickled the crap out of Andy's foot. I honestly didn't know how I was supposed to feel at that moment. Should I be disgusted? Shocked? Amused? Shit...

I don't know what possessed me to take part in this, but I went over and flung Andy onto the floor so he was lying on his back. Then I fastened my knees around his, to prevent him from moving an inch. Brooks ripped off Andy's right shoe and sock, so now both of his feet were exposed. It wasn't about the bruise or the bandages anymore. I held up Andy's bare feet so Brooks had easy access to them.

I probably don't have to tell you what happened next. I'm sure you already know.

Andy's hysterical laughter filled the library as Brooks got to work on his soles and sweaty little toes.

"Look, Red! He's ticklish like a little baby!" Brooks laughed.

I couldn't resist letting out a few chuckles myself. I had seen Andy in many unfortunate situations before, but nothing like this.

Andy writhed and bashed his fists against the floor, but he couldn't escape my death grip. He laughed so hard, tears came spurting from his eyes like geysers. He yelled things like 'stop' and 'please' and 'you're killing me'.

Brooks cackled like an evil maniac as he continued torturing Andy's sensitive bare soles. Nice old guy suddenly became a merciless madman. But heck...who am I to deny an old man a little fun?

When I sensed that my friend's feet couldn't possibly handle anymore, I released the poor fella and assured him that he was just fine...I mean, he looked scared for his life when we were finished with him.

"Ticklish, that's so damn cute," Brooks chuckled.

"Don't tell anybody about this," Andy said, with a pathedic meekness in his voice.

"Okay," Brooks replied.

Sure enough, the news did spread and by the next day, almost everyone in Shawshank knew Andy's little secret. Nobody planned to go easy on him.

We were all in the prison yard. Andy was minding his own business when a group of guys surrounded him. I caught a glimpse of his face...I knew he was having flashbacks of the "Sisters".

One inmate slipped his hands under Andy's arms and pulled him into a full-nelson hold. Another guy pulled up Andy's shirt and exposed his entire bare torso.

Then they started tickling him. Boy, did they tickle him. They tickled his neck, armpits, ribs, sides, and tummy.

Andy threw his head back and burst into hysterical peels of laughter. Through his howling, Andy begged for me to help him. I walked over slowly, observing as the inmates tickle tortured my friend. His face turned bright red, and even his normally pale torso was turning red from all those tickling fingers.

He looked at me through tear-filled eyes, hoping I was there to save him. But I just smiled and dug my finger into his belly button. Poor guy would have literally jumped out of his britches, had he not been secured to the ground.

Then I walked away, shaking my head and grinning. However, don't let my crappy behavior rub you the wrong way. With all the violence and brutality that happens in prison every day, it's refreshing to see the men having a merry old time and acting like childish nitwits. That's why I let the inmates have their way with Andy. They tickled the shit out of him, but he survived. Admittedly, I do feel kind of sorry for him. It must be a difficult thing for a man to have a weakness like that...but we all have our cross to carry.

Besides, my friend Andy Dufresne has been through worse...I guess we all have.

The End


End file.
